


Bonds of Blood

by Higuchimon



Series: When Blood Crosses [19]
Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Character Diversity Boot Camp, Diversity Writing Challenge, Gen, Include The Word Boot Camp, Presents Under The Tree Challenge, Three-Sided Box Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-02-26 15:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon
Summary: Piemon’s nature isn’t fully understood by anyone.  He is not gone, not forever.  And one person can bring him back. Whether Yamato wants to or not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Bonds of Blood  
**Characters:** Yamato, Piemon|| **Romance:** N/A  
**Word Count:** 1,019/12,691|| **Chapters:** 1/12  
**Genre:** Drama|| **Rated:** PG  
**Challenges:** Diversity Writing: breeds: I34, drama genre; Presents Under The Tree Challenge; Include The Word, #39, meddle; Character Diversity Boot Camp, #40, someone  
**Notes:** This takes place in a breeds-based universe, though as of yet none of them know their bloodlines exist. Timeline wise, it’s some years after BelialVamdemon, but Tri  & the epilogue won’t happen. Also, this is written for Tomoe Mami.  
**Summary:** Piemon’s nature isn’t fully understood by anyone. He is not gone, not forever. And one person can bring him back. Whether Yamato wants to or not.

* * *

**Yamato.**

It slithered through his mind, a whisper of words Yamato couldn’t shake out of himself. Or perhaps one word: his name, whispered over and over, along with another that made no sense to him. 

**Anbumon.**

Yamato drained a glass of water, staring into his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he did. He didn’t like what he saw. 

Three nights in a row it was now. Three nights he’d woken from those simple words echoing inside of him. 

_I know that voice._ He didn’t want to know it but he did anyway. Six years since he’d heard it outside of his dreams and he still knew it. 

He grit his teeth together, set the glass down, and started back to his room. The apartment remained dark and silent save for the sound of his footsteps. His dad wouldn’t be back for another three days. He wished Gabumon would be there, but all of their partners were spending the weekend in the Digital World. 

He was all alone here. 

Yamato stopped to stare out of the window, gritting his teeth even harder. He would go to Gabumon in the morning. There wasn’t anything wrong with visiting his partner. Everyone did it on occasion, if their partners were in the Digital World. 

**Anbumon. My son.**

Yamato’s hands clenched into fists at those words. “I am not your son.” 

A laugh, mocking and derisive. **You are. You are mine. My blood is in your veins.**. 

Something warm and wet trickled down his palms. Yamato ignored it, staring at the window. He could just see his reflection there, if he strained hard enough. But wasn’t there something wrong with it? Something hovering over it? 

Something hovering over him? 

He jerked around in hopes of seeing whatever it was, only to be met by nothing at all. Shadows and silence alone greeted him, and the mocking echoing of a dead Digimon’s laugh. 

Yamato forced himself to stalk on to his room, slamming the door hard behind himself. This wasn’t anything more or less than the remnants of a bad dream. He absolutely didn’t want to think otherwise. 

**You can lie to yourself all you want. For now.** Again that voice, taunting and teasing and too close but never where he could touch it and end it. **You are my son and nothing you do can change this.**

There weren’t enough words in the universe - in any universe - that could mean no for this in Yamato’s opinion. He threw himself on his futon and stared balefully at the shadow-shrouded ceiling. Part of him stayed tense, waiting for the voice to start up again. 

But as time ticked by, seconds into minutes and minutes into hours, he heard nothing more, and he could feel his shoulders and back starting to relax. 

_See? Just a dream. Just your imagination. That’s all._

His eyes slipped shut. 

* * *

Gloved fingers, insubstantial as a dream, brushed across his forehead. They didn’t cause any disturbance, at least not that could be seen by the naked eye. Nothing more than a few flickers of Yamato’s blue eyes behind his eyelids. 

**Sleep, my son.**

Piemon would have given anything he owned - if he’d owned anything now - to have flesh again. He would again, he swore to himself for what he knew had to be the thousandth or more time. It was a simple enouogh procedure, but one that only Ishida Yamato could perform. 

And he would, regardless of what he wanted to do or thought he wanted to do. Piemon wasn’t going to let his essence drift away. If Vamdemon could filter his soul into a human and survive, then he certainly could do so, if not do better. And what could be better than reviving himself to take _successful_ revenge on the Chosen? 

Starting with getting both of his sons underneath his control where they properly belonged. 

* * *

Yamato twitched, fingers clenching. He walked somewhere: the deepest depths of the forests of the Digital World. Something whispered in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t hear it, couldn’t be at all certain of what he heard. 

There wasn’t any sign of Gabumon or any of his friends. Just an endless path ahead of him, covered by the arching, intertwining branches of trees. He couldn’t look behind himself. Whenever he tried, his head didn’t move. He just kept on walking and staring ahead of himself. 

Without warning, the path widened into a clearing, and in the clearing rose a ruin of some kind, moss-covered marble and four fallen columns. Now his feet stopped, though he still couldn’t see behind himself. 

From the shadows cast by the ruins came a figure, with a jester’s smile and a madman’s laugh bubbling out of his lips. Yamato shuddered just at the sight, trying to back off. Without Gabumon or his friends, he didn’t stand a chance. 

Or he tried to shudder. He tried to back off. But his body still wouldn’t obey him and Piemon ghosted closer. 

“What do you want?” Yamato found himself able to ask. He really wanted to find out this was just another dream. He didn’t dare think of what might happen if it wasn’t. 

Piemon’s smile only grew wider. “What I told you before. You are my son. My oldest child. But you’re also the one who will _bring me back_.” 

* * *

Yamato’s eyes flashed open, his fingers clenching at the sheets, breath catching in his throat. He remained alone in his room. 

_Just a dream. Nightmare. Again._

But the sound of that laughter, the touch of those fingers, and the sight of that ruined temple hung clear in his thoughts all that day. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** And you thought I just played with Daisuke…


	2. Chapter 2

**Word Count:** 2,110/12,691|| **Chapters:** 2/12

* * *

Four days. Four very _long_ days where Yamato found he could scarcely close his eyes without the image of Piemon rising up behind them and that demanding voice filling his ears, insisting that he find that ruined temple, that he do something he not only didn’t want to do, but didn’t know how to do. 

The more time passed, the more certain he was that if he did find that temple, he would know what he needed to do. The sensation of Piemon’s hands, ghosting so close to him, guided him a thousand times in his dreams. 

He wanted to make himself stay awake but no matter the amount of coffee he drank, sooner or later he fell asleep and found himself in the woods again, seeking out that place that should just fall apart. 

“Big brother, you look exhausted,” Takeru said, staring at him from the other side of the breakfast table. He didn’t come over often, but this weekend both their parents were off doing job related things, and Takeru insisted on coming over. 

Yamato didn’t have the strength to turn him down. But even if he had, he wouldn’t have; spending time with Takeru wasn’t to be carelessly discarded. Now he just fought to drag up a smile and hoped it didn’t shatter under his brother’s scrutiny. 

Then he recalled what Takeru just said and shrugged, hunting for words. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t. He hadn’t been fine in days. 

**Of course you’re fine. You’re my son.** Piemon’s mocking voice echoed in his head. Usually Yamato only heard it in his dreams but there were moments otherwise. He reminded himself this was just a remnant of a dream - and so was the snort of mockery that came along with it - and focused himself on Takeru. 

“What did you want to do tonight?” 

Takeru leaned back on the chair and scrunched his eyes together. “Tell ghost stories?” 

Yamato shuddered from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. “No!” He lived a ghost story every night and couldn’t wait for the day when he’d finally stop. “No ghost stories!” 

**If you did what I told you - what your father tells you - then you wouldn’t dream of me anymore.**

Piemon didn’t know how to be reassuring. Yamato already knew that. He tried, though. He just did it very badly and Yamato tried harder to focus on his brother, a light in his life nothing could extinguish. 

Takeru’s eyes lit up without warning. “Wanna go to the Digital World? See Gabumon and Patamon?” 

“Yes!” Yamato couldn’t wait for that. He hadn’t been able to tell anyone else about this entire mental mess and surely with them he could. He’d thought about telling Taichi but the words wouldn’t come during their one phone call. They’d talked soccer and concerts and friends and nothing else and whenever Yamato tried, the words froze in his throat. 

**As if I would allow that ridiculous human to have a hand in this. Though I might have plans for him afterward.**

Yamato did his best to ignore that as well. The thought of Piemon, plans, and Taichi all in the same sentence sent his stomach churning. 

What made matters even worse, if they somehow could be, was the way he could all but feel Piemon regarding Takeru. It wasn’t the sort of interest he knew much about and having it involve his little brother confused him. 

**I already have plans for him.**

Yamato closed that thought off as quickly as he could, grabbed his Digivice, and followed Takeru through the gate on his laptop into the Digital World. On the other side, their partners already awaited them, and Gabumon hugged his leg the moment that he got there, while Patamon perched on top of Takeru’s hat yet again. 

“We found a weird place,” Patamon confided after the initial flurries of greetings ended. “Want to check it out?” 

Takeru shrugged. “Sure. We’ve got a whole weekend.” They would likely go back home for something at some point, but he was mostly right. They could do what they wanted, and the longer they were around their partners, the more easily Yamato could convince himself that all of his dreams and the sound of Piemon’s voice in his mind were just his imagination. Again. 

**Don’t be so certain, my son.**

As tired as he was, Yamato found himself still strong enough to ignore that comment in favor of following their partners through the trails to that strange location, wherever it was. And whatever it was. 

Takeru didn’t say much as they made their way down the trail. Yamato didn’t argue; the floating figure of Piemon that strolled along with them kept looking in between the two of them, far more amusement in the look than it warranted, at least by Yamato’s standards. He didn’t want to ask why, for multiple reasons. 

Piemon let out an amused laugh, swirling closer to Yamato as he did. **Did you forget that I know your every thought, my son? My re-emergence, my rebirth, is at hand. You, your pretty _mortal_ brother, together in this place?**

Yamato didn’t stop to think. “What are you talking about?” 

Takeru looked back at him, head tilted to the side and eyebrow quirked up. “I didn’t say anything. You all right?” 

“Sure.” Yamato grinned for a quick moment, wishing he could believe he really meant it. Wishing that he did mean it. “I was thinking about something else.” 

Patamon bounced up and down suddenly, pointing ahead of them. “It’s there! It’s there!” 

And the path opened up before them and Yamato’s heart sank as he saw the same ruined, moss-covered temple as he’d seen in his dreams. Piemon stood where he had before and bowed mockingly. 

**Come inside, dear son. Come inside and revive me.**

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** Piemon is having too much fun. Really.


	3. Chapter 3

**Word Count:** 3,207/12,691|| **Chapters:** 3/12

* * *

Yamato wanted to think this was just another aspect of a nightmare. Seeing this place in person was far worse than the dreams anyway. The moss sent up a faint aroma, one that teased and taunted at his nostrils. Piemon hovered there, gesturing for him to come inside. 

Yamato turned away, tense in every muscle. “It is kind of weird.” He couldn’t just tell them that he’d seen this place for days every time he closed his eyes. Nor could he breathe a word about Piemon’s ghost or shadow or whatever being there. 

He really didn’t want to say anything about how Piemon kept calling him his son. He’d never asked about that. If he started asking questions, as if what he saw were real, then he’d really lose it. 

**I don’t need to tell you how we can reproduce, do I?**

He did his best to ignore that, shifting around to stare at the temple opening. Piemon laughed, the sound echoing in Yamato’s ears. 

Takeru moved closer, staring even more intently at the opening. “I think I heard something in there.” 

“It’s probably nothing,” Yamato replied at once, a chill rushing up his spine. “Wind blowing in there.” 

Patamon peeked as well. “I could go in and check. There should be enough room for me.” 

Yamato started to say no, but before he could open his mouth, Patamon jerked forward and fluttered toward the opening, happily grinning. Takeru stepped after him, hand reached out. 

“Be careful!” Takeru looked at his partner, then threw another look at his brother. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.” 

Yamato did his best to smile, hoping this one didn’t look as bad as all the others. “I’m good, really.” 

**You lie poorly. But one of my blood shouldn’t be ashamed of who he is.**

Yamato jerked around harshly, shoulders tense and knotted. “I’m not of _your blood_!” He hissed, not caring for a heartbeat who heard him. 

At Piemon’s amused cackle, he turned once more, this time meaning to shout even louder at the mad clown’s ghost. What he saw closed the words in his throat: Piemon ghosting along behind Takeru, who stared at him as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. 

“Brother?” 

Yamato wanted to protest, to explain that he didn’t mean anything. But Piemon had his own plans, one gloved hand now resting on Takeru’s shoulder. He leaned forward and whispered into Takeru’s ear, words that Yamato couldn’t hear. 

Takeru’s eyes glazed over and he turned around, heading into the temple’s opening, following Patamon. At least that was what Yamato wanted to think. What those glazed eyes could mean infuriated him as he started after him. Them. Whatever. 

He’d only taken a few steps before Gabumon stopped him. Those large eyes stared up at him. “Yamato? What’s going on?” 

Yamato groaned to himself. _Should have known._ Not much got by Gabumon, even if he didn’t always say something about it. He could only try to say something and hope the words didn’t freeze in his throat again. 

“Piemon has a ghost. Or something. He’s been haunting me for the last few days. Now he’s luring Takeru in there.” Yamato swallowed, more startled than he’d expected to say the words. “He claims I can bring him back.” And he had to get Takeru and Patamon Pout of there. Revenge was just the _least_ thing Piemon would want. 

Just from what he’d said already, Yamato refused to think about what else was on his mind. 

Gabumon absorbed all of that, then shrugged. “Then let’s stop him. He’s a ghost. He won’t have any power if we don’t let him.” 

Yamato wasn’t very sure of that, but Gabumon’s words sent a fresh surge of strength through him and he started for the entrance way again, Gabumon right by his side. 

Entering wasn’t all that easy, though. In the heartbeats it took to tell Gabumon, Takeru and Patamon both vanished, and when he attempted to cross, he bounced back, as if the door was blocked by something. 

“What is this?” Yamato pressed a hand against what his eyes told him wasn’t anything more than empty air, but his hands said was an impassable barrier. “Gabumon?” 

His partner sniffed at it, pressing his own paw there. “I don’t know either. Nothing is there, but we can’t pass it.” 

Yamato’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head back. “Piemon! What kind of a joke is this?” If Piemon really thought he could recreate him somehow, then why block the way? 

Again that repulsive chuckle. Then the words echoed in his head. 

**Blood of my blood and only blood of my blood can pass here. Your Gabumon can’t. Only you can come here. And only blood of my blood will let you in.**

Yamato spat out a word that would likely have resulted in his being grounded for life if Ishida Hiroaki had heard it. He stared at the opening, then looked down at Gabumon. 

“He said you can’t go in. Don’t know why he’s letting Takeru and Patamon and not you.” 

He knew. Piemon wanted to use them as bait. What he didn’t know was how that whole ‘blood of his blood’ figured into it. 

Gabumon stared back up at him. “Then I’ll get the others and we’ll find a way to follow you in.” 

Yamato pressed his lips together before he stared at the opening again and nodded reluctantly. “I’ll try to get them back before you get here.” 

It wouldn’t be that easy. It _couldn’t_ be. For all that he wanted to deny this, with his brother’s life at risk, he knew Piemon meant business. How he could do it Yamato had no idea. But standing here wasn’t going to get him answers or Takeru back. 

Gabumon pressed a paw against him for a few seconds, then hurried off at top speed. Yamato stared harder at the blocked gateway, trying to figure out the answer. There had to be one. 

Blood of his blood. Since these nightmares began, Piemon called him his son. He didn’t want that to be true but what choice did he have? 

Blood of Piemon’s blood. It _shouldn’t_ be possible. But this was the Digital World. How did he know what was real and what wasn’t? v “Open up,” he demanded. His stomach churned at the next words. “Open up for...” The name rose to his lips, only half-remembered from dreams. “For Anbumon!” 

He’d kept a hand on the invisible barrier. As he spoke the name, it vanished from underneath his touch and he stumbled forward. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** And the journey begins.


	4. Chapter 4

**Word Count:** 4,305/12,691|| **Chapters:** 4/12

* * *

Despite the ruined state of the outside, once he crossed the threshold and recovered his balance, Yamato found himself more than a little surprised to be surrounded by an empty room. It stretched out beyond him in every direction, with the entrance he’d come in by as clear and empty as if the place saw heavy traffic every day. 

Marks of the same kind of digital writing they’d seen in other places in the Digital World covered the walls. Unlike many other times, Yamato thought he would be able to understand them if he stared long enough. He also thought he wouldn’t like it if he did. 

“Where are you?” he muttered, taking a few careful steps forward. He tried to ignore how uneasy all of this made him feel. He’d been trying to ignore a lot of things since the first moment Piemon’s ghost appeared before him. 

_Maybe I shouldn’t._ Acknowledging what Piemon said as true sent shudders all through him. But if that was what he had to do in order to help Takeru, he knew that he would do it. 

He heard no answer as he moved onward, searching for any sign of where his brother had gone. Piemon probably wouldn’t leave a trace but Takeru would. He even checked for signs of Patamon, just to be sure. 

And still nothing at all. 

Yamato bit back the frustration and closed his eyes in an attempt to work out what was going on and how to get where he was going. 

The dreams. The dreams of this place he’d had before rushed back into his mind, along with that unerring sense that he knew what to do in this place he’d never been before. 

Slowly he looked from one side to the other. Resisting what he knew was only going to slow him down. He had to use it, for the sake of his brother. 

Even more slowly, hating every moment, he moved towards the far wall. The closer he came, the more he could see, until he came close enough to see four hallways leading off this entrance room. There wasn’t any sign of which way Takeru would have gone, not a single footprint, and no dust or dirt to leave one in. 

The air itself in here was far fresher than he would have expected. None of this felt right, though it mirrored his dreams quite well. 

_That’s what makes it even worse._ Yamato set his jaw and tried to remember which of these had been in his dreams. 

None of them. He knew that clearly; he’d come from the main area to a single corridor every time. So these weren’t the right ones? 

Either they weren’t or one of them was and he had to figure it out. He bit off a few more words that he doubted his mom or dad would really want to hear him say – most of them in French, he always preferred swearing in that – and took another step forward. What was the point of all of this anyway? And how could Takeru get here without doing what he had? 

For that matter, how had Takeru and Patamon gotten so far out of his sight so fast? 

**Really, my son. Can’t you guess?**

Piemon’s insufferably smug tones echoed in his mind once again. He missed the silence already. Especially since he could absolutely feel Piemon’s pride in him for speaking that name at the doorway. 

**Of course I’m proud you said your own name. What father wouldn’t be?**

Yamato avoided thinking about that. At least here he could ask questions without people staring at him. “What did you do with Takeru?” 

**He’s mine now. I don’t have a body but that will soon change, and when it does, I have plans.**

Yamato decided that he was going to forgo sleep for the immediate future. Say the next twenty or thirty or sixty years. He could also feel Piemon laughing at him. 

“You’re not going to have a body if I can’t get through here.” He was going to make sure that Piemon never had one again at all but he still needed to find his brother. 

**Then you’d best find your way through, hadn’t you?**

Yamato growled deeper and darker, his fingers clenching and unclenching. “You do know I don’t want you to come back.” 

**Oh, I know. But I want you to revive me and a good son obeys his father. And a good brother helps his brother.**

Yamato’s head snapped up at once. “What do you mean?” 

**I told you that he’s mine now. Fail to return me in a proper body of my own, Anbumon, and I will take the Child of Hope’s for my own. It isn’t the use I have for him by choice, but it will do. I _will_ return, in one fashion or another.**

Yeah, he wasn’t going to ever sleep again. The idea of Piemon roaming the world, either in his own body or hijacking Takeru’s, would eliminate that pretty well. So he’d make certain it didn’t happen. At all. Ever. 

He stared at the four corridors. All of them looked real and identical. Touching each one revealed the same thing: they were all alike. Nothing to tell one apart from another. 

**I suppose I should give you a clue. But it’s one I already have. You are _blood of my blood_.**

Yamato flashed his teeth in something he knew wasn’t a smile and he didn’t care. “So you keep saying.” 

**And so you keep denying. Admit and _accept_ who you are and the path will open before you. Keep fighting for too long and when you see your brother again, my soul will look at you from his eyes.**

Piemon would probably do reasonably well as a motivational speaker, if his intent were to terrify someone into doing what he wanted. 

At the same time, a spark of memory flared, little more than a twitch of thought, of their earliest meeting with Piemon. The mocking laugh, the way all of the Dark Masters so effortlessly bested them. It wouldn’t happen again; it couldn’t, they were so much stronger now, and they had more teammates! 

**Is that all you remember?**

No. It wasn’t. He remembered a small knife flying forward, aimed for Mimi, intercepted by Chuumon. 

**Blood of my blood.**

Yamato drew in a breath that did nothing to steady him, stared down at his hands, closed them. 

_Blood of his blood._

When he opened his hand again, a dagger with a blade no longer than a finger rested there. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** Yamato has to do more than just say his Digimon name to accomplish things. He won’t like most of them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Word Count:** 5,362/12,691|| **Chapters:** 5/12

* * *

Yamato stared at the small knife in his hands that hadn’t been there a heartbeat before. He wanted to feel amazed. He wished he could feel shock. But underneath all of that, a far stronger sense pulsed: pride. He’d done this. 

He’d done it to save Takeru, he reminded himself, Takeru and Patamon both. This was just the beginning. 

He grit his teeth. Piemon’s words echoed as always in his ears. He wanted to get through this for the sheer fact he hated thinking about anything that Piemon said. But at least it gave him a chance to figure out what to do next. 

If he waited too long, Piemon would start taunting him again. Steeling himself, he pressed the tip of the blade into his finger, wincing as he drew blood. 

“Blood of his blood,” he muttered, twisting his face up as he reached to the dusty wall and pressed his bleeding finger to it. Obeying his instincts got him this far. 

A flash brighter than the sun spiraled outwards, bright enough to blind him, and he stumbled back a few paces, rubbing at his eyes. When he could see again, one single arched doorway stood before him. Even better, he could see very familiar footsteps on the dusty floor. 

So he went forward, still holding the small knife. It wouldn’t do anything against any Digimon that he met. 

**As if you would need to fight. Any Digimon that you meet here knows that you are my son. They will do you no harm.**

Somehow, that didn’t even _begin_ to reassure Yamato. If he had an option, he would much rather have not been here at all, let alone risk running across more evil Digimon or Piemon. 

The corridor began to lead downward, turning into a set of stairs. Yamato kept on walking, seeing vague traces of Takeru’s footprints ahead of him. The longer he walked, the more he wished he didn’t have to. 

He almost didn’t realize it at first when the stairs came to an end and the room widened ahead of him. He stumbled to a halt, staring at the spectacle before him. 

Digimon. _Lots_ of Digimon, each and every one of them a Virus-type, and all of them staring at him hungrily. 

In the years since the defeat of BelialVamdemon, finding genuinely evil Digimon became rarer and rarer. Yamato wondered if they’d all gathered here and if they had, why. 

**Because they knew this was where I would be reborn. And these are my lesser troops, not even proper powerful allies. If you wish evil Digimon, my son, then I can provide that as well. But first you will bring me back.**

That wasn’t anything like what Yamato wanted. He took a step forward, staring at the Devidramon ahead of him. The Digimon leaned forward and sniffed, as if checking to see just who he was. Yamato gripped his little knife even harder, waiting to see what Devidramon would do. 

What it did was move backwards, opening up a path through the Digimon. All of those who’d been in the way moved as well, though their eyes didn’t leave him. He wasn’t that good at reading Digimon expressions when they weren’t Gabumon’s, but he kind of thought they didn’t like him. 

**Does it matter? They will fear you. They will obey you.** Piemon’s cackle echoed. **When they’re not obeying me, of course.**

For one small moment, a spark of hope leapt up in Yamato’s chest, only to die a heartbeat later at Piemon’s words. If he _had_ to be Piemon’s son – and he didn’t want to be – then couldn’t he at least get _some_ kind of a perk out of it? 

**You will. In time.**

The fainest flicker of Taichi’s face slipped through his mind and Yamato tried his best to not only ignore it, but to ignore the hot flash that crept up his cheeks and the way that Piemon cackled even more. 

It was so much easier to focus on how much he hated Piemon, hated this whole situation, hated every bit of this, as he made his way through the Digimon. All of them fell into place behind him, following in an eerie silence that did absolutely nothing to improve his mood. 

He couldn’t shake the sense that they formed an odd sort of honor guard as he moved through the room to an exit leading to another corridor on the far side. Piemon’s assent to that flowed through him. 

**You are their prince. My son. Why would they not?**

So many reasons that was wrong. Just _so many_. 

The corridor he followed now led down in a spiral fashion, and at the bottom, it widened out into a room that sent chills from Yamato’s heels to his head. It wasn’t the room itself so much – plain gray walls and gray floor and no windows and an altar of plain gray stone and on that altar _his brother_ and where was Patamon and was he too late? He couldn’t be too late. 

**No. Relax yourself, Anbumon. Rest.**

That didn’t make him feel better, nor did seeing Piemon’s translucent essence rise up from within Takeru and make his way towards Yamato. What he really wanted to do was grab Takeru, find Patamon, and get out of there as fast as he could. What he couldn’t do was move a muscle. 

**You’re here at last. The room of my rebirth.**

Piemon stood before him, a proud smile hovering on his lips. 

“Let them go,” Yamato said, more focused on what was in front of him than the Digimon spreading out and around him. “Let them go _now_.” 

**Now, why would I do that? I said that I had plans for him, and I do. But we both know what comes first.**

Yamato shuddered to feel the faintest whisper of a touch on his hands as Piemon reached downward. Seeing and hearing him was bad enough. Feeling that couldn’t have made it worse and yet it did. 

**But before that even, you need to know how you are my son. What I need you to do, Anbumon, is to be my son, blood of my blood, in every possible way. And for that, you need to understand.**

Scarlet eyes flashed and the room around Yamato faded away into gray mist and memories. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** I’ve finished this story, so updates will be daily until all chapters are posted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Word Count:** 6,450/12,691|| **Chapters:** 6/12

* * *

Piemon walked beside him. Yamato wanted to hate that. But like so much else since this nightmare became his life, he couldn’t muster the emotion the way that he wanted to. 

But something else caught his attention. He walked too, down a street he knew well. He’d spent half a dozen of his early years on this street, growing up. 

“This is before you,” Piemon murmured. “But not so much. There. Look.” 

It was as if his eyes knew where to look regardless. Drawn by a shape he knew as well as he knew his own, he stared the way Piemon indicated. 

_Mom._

Younger by… well, by a little more than the span of his own life. He recognized the way that she walked: short, quick steps, a file underneath her arm, her eyes distant and occupied with thoughts he couldn’t guess at. 

He glanced around; there wasn’t any sign of his dad there at all. Piemon chuckled. 

“You will see me shortly. As will she.” 

Yamato didn’t even try to stop the words that rose to his lips. “You’re not my dad.” 

“I am your father. You would not exist if it weren’t for me.” 

Piemon’s hand rested on the back of his neck, as real and solid as if he wasn’t three-quarters dead. He nudged Yamato along. “This way. You don’t want to miss the big event.” 

“Yes, I do,” Yamato muttered. His legs carried him where he didn’t want to go regardless. He had no choice in where he moved to or what he saw. 

His mother stepped inside of a small cozy restaurant. While Yamato recognized the street in general, not all of the stores had been there when he was growing up. This one must have been one that didn’t stick around. 

Natsuko settled at a table in the back, inspecting the menu. Fear crawled up Yamato’s spine; as much as he loathed the very concept of Piemon being his father – no, _sire_ \- he knew what was involved in having kids and just an implication of his _normal_ parents… 

He threw the mental brakes on that thought before it got too far, Piemon laughing in his ear regardless. 

“She intends to meet her husband here. They have arranged this.” Piemon let out another laugh, smug and satisfied and full of mockery. “I have other plans.” 

“How can you affect something in the human world? I mean, this is the past. There was a time difference, right?” Science and time calculations weren’t his greatest skills, but Yamato could at least see there was a problem here. 

Piemon’s fingers moved through his hair. Yamato kept staring at his mom. It was so much better than the alternative. 

“You are correct on that. Under normal circumstances, this would be impossible. I could barely see into this world, let alone influence it to any degree: without the efforts that I took. You saw once how Vamdemon created a gate between worlds with those cards.” 

As if Yamato could ever forget _that_. He jerked his head quickly in response. 

“I don’t need to use cards to create a gate. Watch.” 

One moment everything was fine. Natsuko stared at the menu and her lips parted as if to begin her order. 

Then everything in the restaurant shook, from floor to ceiling. Most buildings didn’t suffer very much from minor earthquakes but this wasn’t minor. Screams pierced the air, dust rising as parts of the walls slid down, plates and utensils flying everywhere, more debris than Yamato could see filling the air. People darted this way and that in search of shelter, including his mother. 

Someone else moved through the dust, too blurry for Yamato to see clearly at first. Then his eyes widened and his throat closed up. 

“Come with me!” 

His mother brought herself to her feet, taking a few stumbling steps toward the confusing figure that reached out a hand. Yamato didn’t think she could see what he saw. 

“She can’t. Only another Digimon would be able to see through my shape-change.” Piemon could not have sounded more amused if he’d put effort into it. “Or someone like you: my own blood.” 

Yamato hissed, wondering if he could somehow land a hit on Piemon. In the normal course of things it wouldn’t have been possible. But in this strange reflection of memory… 

The memory of disguised Piemon wrapped both hands around Natsuko’s wrist and pulled her closer. A ripple crossed through the air and a heartbeat later, a huge chunk of the ceiling landed where Natsuko had been. If she’d still been there, Yamato knew she wouldn’t have survived. 

“I can cross through world barriers, though finding the right way to do so when time dilation is involved requires more effort. I don’t think you need to see me doing the math, though.” Piemon chuckled at what he clearly thought was a hilarious joke. 

“What did you do to her?” Yamato demanded. He knew. He couldn’t have _not_ known. But the question came regardless. There were details that he didn’t know and he wanted them. 

He wanted to know just how badly he needed to kill Piemon. 

The scene around them flickered and faded away, then was replaced by a strange room, one decorated as a bedroom. Very luxurious, with a view that he didn’t recognize beyond being certain it was the Digital World. 

His mom appeared there, standing next to the bed, breathing hard, rage in her eyes the moment her head cleared enough for her to realize she wasn’t where she’d been. Piemon, no longer disguised, stood next to her, still holding onto her hand. 

“Welcome to my castle,” he said with a wicked smirk. “I am Piemon, ruler of the Digital World.” 

“I don’t care who you think you are, I want to know how to get home!” Natsuko declared, trying to yank herself out of his grip and failing. “Let me go!” 

“Not yet. I brought you here for a reason. Fulfill that reason and I will return you to your world. No one will ever know you were gone, unless you choose to tell them. Not even a moment will have passed for them.” 

Natsuko stared at him, even as Piemon drew her closer into his arms. “What are you talking about?” 

“I require an offspring and I choose you to carry it.” 

“I’m married.” 

Piemon’s laugh hadn’t changed from then to now. “I don’t care.” 

Yamato shuddered. This wasn’t what he wanted to know and yet, he couldn’t feel surprised. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** Piemon has had too much fun.


	7. Chapter 7

**Word Count:** 7,465/12,691|| **Chapters:** 7/12  
**Notes:** While nothing is graphically described or even described at all, the concept of unwilling sex and unwilling conception is present.

* * *

Piemon continued to run his gloved hands through Yamato’s hair. No matter where Yamato went, that touched stayed. He wished all over again that he could strangle Piemon, but the moment he made a move, he found Piemon remained like a ghost. One that could touch him but that he couldn’t touch himself. 

The image of his mother and Piemon continued to play out before him. 

“You can stay here long enough to deliver our child,” Piemon said, Natsuko far too close to him in Yamato’s opinion. “Then I will wipe your mind clean of your visit here and return you to your world. I ask nothing else.” 

Yamato frowned at that. “I didn’t get born here.” 

“Unfortunately, no. I _intended_ for you and your brother to grow up with me. I would have shaped you into the most magnificent of warriors, loyal only to me.” Piemon breathed a deep sigh of regret for what hadn’t been. “But someone intervened.” 

“I want to thank them,” Yamato muttered. Then something else clicked. “Brother?” He didn’t think Piemon meant Takeru. 

“Soon,” Piemon assured him. He gestured toward the scene unfolding. 

“What if I say no?” 

Piemon’s smile would rightly terrify anyone who saw it. Yamato wished he had Gabumon with him. He would have been a lot more relaxed if he had. 

“Then I’ll still get what I want. You don’t really have a choice on carrying my child. What you can choose is telling me yes or no.” 

Yamato swung swiftly, one fist slamming to Piemon and passing through him uselessly. The ghost laughed before he seized hold of Yamato’s arms and shoved him down onto the floor, holding him firmly. One arm slipped up from holding him to grip into his hair and yank his head up so he could see what was going on there. 

He wasn’t allowed to look away. 

“It took several attempts, of course,” Piemon murmured. “But in the end I succeeded.” He pulled Yamato to his feet as the room reshaped itself to reveal Natsuko, not much changed from when he’d last seen her save for better clothes, seated next to Piemon. Hate was still written clear in her eyes and Yamato approved. 

“Two months,” Piemon announced, looking at a spinning web of light between his fingers. He rose to his feet, dismissing the light. “Rest. I’ll be back later.” 

Natsuko didn’t look as if this improved her day in any fashion. She stared at the door after Piemon left, but rested by the window instead. 

“The door would only open for me,” Piemon told Yamato. “And trying to leave through the window would have killed her. She didn’t want to die.” 

His grip tightened. “This, I didn’t see. But I can conjure anything that happened in my home.” 

Yamato watched as a sudden familiar device appeared next to his mother, and Gennai, young and vital, appeared there. 

“Ishida Natsuko?” His voice echoed faintly and she whirled to stare at him. “I presume that you desire to return home?” 

“Yes!” Natsuko rose up to stare at him. “But who are you? How did you find me?” 

“We don’t need to go into details on that now. I only have a short period of time I can get you out of there and back to your world.” 

“What about...” She raised a hand to her stomach. 

Gennai gave no answer for a few breaths. “I can help you forget what happened. You’ll believe this is the child of you and your husband: unless something else happens to stir the memory. I can’t promise that it won’t. It’s far more likely that it will.” 

Her fingers tightened into a fist. “I don’t care. I don’t want to remember him.” 

“Then step into the light. You’ll have to stay with me for a few days as I arrange the modifications to your memory but then I will send you home.” 

Gennai faded away, replaced by a shimmering sphere of pure white light. Natsuko didn’t hesitate for a moment before she stepped into it and Yamato couldn’t see her anymore. 

Piemon’s grip on him slowly eased as the room itself faded, replaced by the chamber they’d been in before, with Virus Digimon and Takeru prostrate on the altar. 

“I chose not to take her back. I needed to locate my second concubine regardless and it took a great deal of effort to cross the world barriers at that point. It’s easier now with the two worlds in sync.” Piemon chuckled at that. “The old fool never would have guessed that his defeat made my work easier.” 

“What?” Yamato stepped away, shaking his head to clear it. He would have nightmares. He didn’t doubt that for a moment, not after all that he’d seen. 

“Apocalymon. He was far, far more than what you saw. But we can discuss that another time.” Piemon regarded him thoughtfully. “And that is how you were conceived. Not raised by me as I planned, thanks to Gennai’s conniving, but you have come back to me. It’s time for you to take your proper place at my feet.” 

Yamato’s stomach churned relentlessly. “Not _ever_ going to happen.” 

“I think we’ve already dealt with the fact you will do what I want or your _human_ brother suffers for it.” Piemon bent his head towards him. “Not only are you going to bring me back, but you’ll bring your half-brother – my second son – to me as well. He made a good start before but he needs lessons in how to properly rule.” 

Yamato’s throat dried. “What?” The word was little more than a shocked breath. What Piemon said – only one person fit that description, loose as it was. If he were right, if this weren’t all just some sort of horrid nightmare that he couldn’t bring himself to wake up from no matter how hard he tried, then that meant... 

Piemon smiled, the most gruesome sight that Yamato could remember having seen in his life. “Yes. My second son is the one that you refer to as Ichijouji Ken – the former Digimon Kaiser.” 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** I never made a secret of it. This better not surprise anyone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Word Count:** 8,525/12,691|| **Chapters:** 8/12

* * *

“Now.” Piemon floated over to the altar. “It’s time to revive me. Come here.” 

Yamato dug his heels in without a second thought. “No.” Time. He needed time. Time to process all of this, time to allow Gabumon to alert the others and get them here, time to save Takeru and not revive Piemon. 

Especially that last. He wouldn’t do that last. Every little portion he’d had to give, he would take back now. 

_I’m his son._ It nauseated him to even think about but there was too much truth that rang in it for him to deny it. Once he was out of here, he could talk to Gennai and to his mother. Had she picked Takeru over him because of what happened with Piemon? Why had Gennai picked him as a Chosen when Piemon’s blood ran in his veins? Wasn’t that dangerous? 

How much of what they’d been told was actually true? 

Piemon’s gaze pinned him before he could move another breath. “Anbumon. No more games. Come here.” 

Yamato shook his head without hesitation. “I’m not going to help you.” A flash of mixed glee and anger flickered through him. “The others will be here soon anyway. I already sent Gabumon to get them.” 

“And what could they do, even if they could arrive in time? This place here runs on _my_ rules. Only _you_ could find the way in and only by accepting that I am your father: blood of my blood. Even Akogimon would need to accept that before he could find his way here.” 

Piemon pointed at him, scarlet eyes flashing. “Come. _Here_.” 

Every part of Yamato screamed in rage except for his feet, which slowly moved to where Piemon pointed. He tensed and strained, growling low in his throat. 

“Gabumon...” 

“If it means this much to you, then look, and despair!” Piemon moved one hand and light flared, unrolling into a hole in the air. Through it, Yamato could see Gabumon hurrying along, casting quick worried glances over his shoulder as he did. Yamato wasn’t sure of where he was, only that he couldn’t see any of the others there. That all by itself sent shudders through him. 

Even worse, he could now see what Gabumon kept an eye on: a half dozen Devidramon chasing him, their strides longer and faster than his. If he could evolve to Garurumon, it wouldn’t have made any real difference. He would have been more than big enough and strong enough to handle it, even outnumbered six to one. 

_But he can’t evolve without me there._

And the Devidramon seemed to know that. They circled outward and around, one leaping forward to nip at Gabumon’s flank, another slashing at his side. Gabumon stumbled forward, firing back with his own attacks, but the Devidramon dodged anyway, not nimbly enough to escape without harm, but still herding him where they wanted him to go. 

“He won’t last much longer,” Piemon said. “They won’t delete him. I gave orders.” Again that monstrous, twisted laugh of his. “But they will chase him until he can’t run anymore and then chase him even more, until I tell them otherwise. He won’t find your friends. He won’t find help.” 

The image faded. Yamato found himself taking a few more stumbling, furious steps. Again words leaped to his throat that he couldn’t speak. Piemon had to be lying. Gabumon couldn’t be in that much danger. He couldn’t be forced into doing this. 

Piemon pointed to the knife in Yamato’s hands. He’d forgotten it was there in the first place. 

“First I need your blood. Let seven drops land here.” He pointed to the altar, to a small depression right above Takeru’s head. Yamato’s eyes shifted between his brother and Piemon. 

“Get Takeru off of there first.” 

“I think not. He is my backup in case you think you can be clever. You can’t be, Anbumon. What you can be, what you _will_ be, is obedient. Seven drops of blood. Now.” 

Yamato bit off more words that he knew none of his relatives – the human ones anyway – would have especially wanted to hear. But he raised the knife and somehow wasn’t at all surprised to see embossed on the hilt was the Crest of Friendship. It was his, all right. 

He sliced his finger again, a little deeper this time. He needed more than before. Carefully he held it over the depression and watched, counting as seven drops of blood landed there. 

“Here. Another seven,” Piemon said, gesturing to another point on the altar. Yamato moved his hand and let it happen again, his heart racing as designs on the altar that he hadn’t noticed before started to glow in streaks of black and scarlet and saffron. 

The glow grew stronger as he dripped more blood. There were four depressions in all, one at the head, one at the foot, and one on each side. Takeru lay there the whole time, eyes closed, breathing quietly, as if utterly unaware that Yamato or Piemon were there at all. 

The last drop of blood struck and the glow became too bright for Yamato to see through. A voice chanted, Piemon’s voice, and Yamato heard his own joining it. He didn’t know the language – at least not what to call it – but the meaning drove itself into his mind and from his lips regardless. 

**_By blood life given,_**

**_By blood life taken,_ **

**_By power risen,_ **

**_By power awakened,_ **

**_Live once more,_ **

**_Master of this land,_ **

**_Arisen by thy son’s hand,_ **

**_Bound by flesh and bound by blood,_ **

**_Sweep the land with evil’s flood!_**

Energy the likes of which Yamato hadn’t experienced in all of his life swept over him, sending him flying back, crashing against the wall. Piemon’s laughter crackled and echoed all around, richer and more _there_ than it had been before. 

In fact, he hadn’t heard Piemon sound like that at all since the first time he’d crossed paths with the twisted clown on their first return to the Digital World. 

When Piemon had been alive. 

Yamato dragged his eyes open as his vision cleared and stared ahead of him. Piemon stood in front of the altar, just as he had before, but solid and alive. He glanced down at his hands, turning them, before he turned back towards Yamato. 

“My son,” he purred, “I live again.” 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** And we still have 4 chapters to go!


	9. Chapter 9

**Word Count:** 9,582/12,691|| **Chapters:** 9/12

* * *

Piemon fitted his hand against the side of Yamato’s face. In all of his life, Yamato couldn’t remember ever having felt something so horrible. Underneath the glove he could feel fingers and a palm, no different from his own or Taichi’s or Sora’s or anyone else. Any differences that were there could likely be written off to Piemon being a Digimon. 

He pulled himself away, or tried to. Piemon’s other hand crashed down onto his shoulder and kept him in place. 

“And where do you think that you’re going, Anbumon?” The clown asked, lips twisted into a smile that sent Yamato’s stomach surging this way and that. 

“Out of here!” Yamato snapped, jerking his attention over to Takeru. Takeru, who hadn’t moved a muscle except to keep breathing since all of this began. “And I’m taking Takeru and Patamon with me!” 

Piemon’s grip tightened. His smile grew, darker and more twisted than before. 

“You think I will let you leave? You have so much more to do for me.” 

“I brought you back. That’s all.” Yamato hated how the words tasted on his tongue. He wanted to throw up just at the thought of what he’d done. But they could change this, he reminded himself. They had more people on the team. He could hardly wait to see Piemon’s reaction to WarGreymon, MetalGarurumon, _and_ ImperialDramon. 

“Oh, that’s not even close to all. You’re going to bring me my other son. As well as Fuseiimon, Akuenmon, and Akigaramon.” He laughed softly. “The other two can wait until I have you all at my feet.” 

Yamato shook his head in confusion. He could barely process being Piemon’s son himself, let alone what he’d already heard about being Ken’s brother. All of those other names meant nothing to him. 

Perhaps Piemon saw something of that in his expression. He didn’t release Yamato but stared down into his eyes. 

“Fuseiimon: the son of Vamdemon. Akuenmon, daughter of Devimon. And Akigaramon: an empty vessel crafted only for obedience and pleasure. Crafted by a nightmare given form: Apocalymon.” He bared his teeth. Yamato realized a heartbeat later this was supposed to be a smile. “Or by the names you know: Kido Jou, Takenouchi Sora, and Motomiya Daisuke.” 

Rage unchained coursed through Yamato at those names. He surged forward, knife in his hands that he tried to sink into Piemon. The evil clown casually backhanded him, sending him spiraling into the nearest wall. 

“I wanted you to do this because you know that serving me is what you are meant to do. But if I must, then there are other methods.” 

Yamato started to scramble to his feet, the pain where he’d been hit fading, replaced by building anger. How dare Piemon! How dare he do any of this! 

His hands flexed. He would have done anything at all for a weapon, something capable of killing Piemon. 

Piemon began to laugh. “Your powers grow moment by moment, Anbumon. Of course, it won’t be enough to defeat _me_.” 

Something rested in his hands. Something that hadn’t been there a breath earlier. Yamato cast his eyes down for a heartbeat and almost forgot how to breathe at the sight of two long, slender swords held in his grip, each with a hilt marked with the Crest of Friendship. 

“Very good. Very good indeed,” Piemon praised, moving closer. “You’ll need training, of course. I intend to uncover just what abilities you have and ensure that you put them to good use.” 

The words sounded good. If Yamato could do things – and even with all of his grudging acceptance he wasn’t ready to admit that he could – then it would probably be good to learn _how_ to do them. 

But being taught by Piemon? No. Never. Every part of him balked at that. 

Piemon’s hands descended onto his shoulders, in a grip that he couldn’t squirm his way out of. “How many times do I have to tell you that you are my son, blood of my blood, and you _will_ do as you are told?” 

“No!” Yamato jerked both of his arms up and only Piemon’s inhuman grace and agility kept him from being inexpertly, but very thoroughly, skewered. Again, almost too casually, Piemon struck him. 

“You don’t attack me. Whatever I do, you will accept it. I am your _father_. You obey me. Is that understood?” 

Yamato rubbed at his face where he’d been hit. The swords remained in his hands, as natural as his fingers. He’d never thought to attack someone else, not like this. Battles between Digimon were different. Just as important, just as likely to end with his death if something went wrong, but _different_ all the same. 

Now Piemon’s hand suddenly twisted around, gripping his shirt and raising him off the floor. “Do you understand what I’m telling you, Anbumon? You are my son and my servant. You do as I tell you to do or you won’t be the one who pays the price for it.” 

Again Piemon swung, jerking Yamato around so that he saw Takeru still stretched out on the altar. 

“I won’t kill him,” Piemon hissed in his ear, grip tightening with every word. “But I have other ways I can punish him for _your_ failures.” 

Yamato tried to shout, tried to say anything that would deny what Piemon said. But Piemon’s grip slid upward to his throat, blocking off the words. He wasn’t done yet. 

“And you can do nothing to me, _son_. My life is tied to _his_ life now. Kill me and he dies as well. His life force and mine are one and the same now.” Every word dripped like the most virulent of poisons into Yamato’s ear. “Look.” 

He tilted Yamato’s head up and there was a cage that he’d never seen before. Sealed up in that cage was an egg that he only vaguely recalled seeing before, when he wasn’t much more than eleven. 

When Angemon sacrificed himself to save them all from Devimon and Takeru’s tears fell and none of them knew if they’d ever see Patamon again. 

Piemon chuckled. “All I have to do is smash it, and he’s gone forever. Are you going to behave and do as you’re told?” 

To destroy his brother’s partner… Yamato couldn’t do that. Couldn’t even think about it. He swallowed. And he answered. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** Can you guess what his answer is?


	10. Chapter 10

**Words:** 10,601/12,691|| **Chapters:** 10/12

* * *

“I will _never_ do what you want! Never again!” Yamato shouted at the top of his lungs, gratified to see Piemon taking a step back. “I’ll find a way to get Takeru back and Patamon back and there’s nothing you can do to change that! I’m a _Chosen_ , whether or not I’m your spawn, and you can’t change that, either!” 

Piemon’s scarlet gaze didn’t move from him. Yamato could see the rage slowly rising and refused to back down. He meant every word that he said. As much as the very idea sickened him, Piemon and Takeru being connected like Piemon claimed they were meant that Takeru was _safe_. Piemon wouldn’t hurt him. 

And Takeru being safe meant that Piemon didn’t have any more hold over Yamato. 

But before Yamato took a handful of breaths more, Piemon moved forward, once more pinning him against the wall, but with a mad smirk wreathing across his features. 

“I wanted you to be my son, my heir, my Anbumon because you are aware of the power my blood bestows upon you. I wanted you to pledge yourself to me because you accept the wisdom of being my son. But if you refuse to accept that, I will have to _persuade_ you.” His smirk widened as Yamato’s feet kicked helplessly. “And you’ll find I am very persuasive when I wish to be.” 

He raised Yamato up and slammed him against the stone wall, gesturing for the gathered Digimon to disperse. 

“I will deal with my disobedient son,” he told them. “Go ensure that the Chosen don’t interfere.” 

Yamato tried to struggle to his feet. He’d barely gotten them under him, not even able to actually stand up, before Piemon hit him again, this time sending him flying all the way across the room. 

“You won’t do as you’re told. Very disobedient of you,” Piemon said, floating towards him. Yamato groaned, trying to get his head put together enough to do more than lay there. “I should warn you: I won’t kill your brother. But there are _far_ more things I can do than kill him. Things you would call worse than death.” His smile didn’t improve with age or practice. “He’s almost of age to be _useful_ and I must say, I find him attractive, for a human. I’ve always had a taste for blonds.” Again he smiled, and Yamato just barely had time to think that was the worst one yet before he found himself hurled across the room yet again. “As Vamdemon could tell you – and likely will.” 

Yamato groaned, managing to push himself to his feet this time before Piemon drew closer again. He no longer knew where his swords were and he wouldn’t have known how to use them even if he had. He breathed a little harder as what Piemon said sank into him. 

“I didn’t want to know that.” He rested one hand against the wall and tried to avoid looking at Takeru. He couldn’t be distracted. Piemon’s attention needed to be on him and nothing else, no one else. 

“Oh, but I think you did. I might have restrained myself if you’d done as I told you.” Piemon hovered right next to him, staring and smiling as if Yamato were an especially tempting morsel he planned on savoring. “I don’t plan on keeping him asleep forever. Only as long as it suits my purposes.” His hand flew out again and Yamato knew he was taking his time, dragging this out, letting it go as long as possible just to hurt him even more… 

Yamato’s hands flew up, just a fraction faster than Piemon’s. They closed over Piemon’s hands, and every sensation of rage, every scrap of anger, every tiny little bit of hate that he’d ever experienced in his entire life, but most especially since Piemon began to fill his mind with dreams and lured him here… 

It all focused into his grip and there was _fire_ and it was red as heart’s blood and it was blue as noon’s skin and it was black as a starless night and Piemon jerked back, an actual expression of surprise flickering across his face. 

“So that is one of your attacks,” Piemon mused, staring at Yamato’s hands. Yamato stared himself; was this what it was like when a Digimon wielded fire? 

He thought he kind of liked it. Especially if it kept Piemon at bay. 

He clenched his fists and tongues of flame wrapped around them as he concentrated on how furious he was, on how he wanted Piemon gone and gone forever, never to bother any of them again. 

Fire blazed outward once again. This time, unfortunately, Piemon moved to the side, unnatural grace and wicked smiles flowing into one another. 

“All the power you have I gave to you with my blood,” Piemon said. “You are strong – you’ll get stronger, with training.” 

That definitely went on the list of things that Yamato didn’t want to hear. But Piemon wasn’t done yet. 

“And I think it’s time that we stopped such foolish games and you learned that you belong to me.” 

Yamato shook his head. Conjuring these flames took more out of him than he would have imagined, and it didn’t help that most of his body ached in a thousand ways after all of Piemon’s casual knocking around. But he wasn’t going to back down on that. 

“I’m not yours. Neither is Takeru. None of us are.” 

“I think you’ll find I can change that.” Piemon moved. Yamato barely had time to realize that he _was_ moving before he found himself face down on the floor. “And I will.” 

Yamato expected any number of things. He expected pain. He got it. He expected anger. That boiled up in a heartbeat. He expected so much and he had more than he’d ever wanted of all of it, and then there was so much more. 

Piemon’s fingertips brushed up against the small of his back. “And now, my son, It’s time for you to _wake up_.” 

And Yamato’s world became nothing but screaming and shadows. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** Seriously, Yamato is powerful, but Piemon knows how to _use_ his power. That makes a huge difference.


	11. Chapter 11

**Words:** 11,666/12,691|| **Chapters:** 11/12

* * *

In between one breath and the next, all the pain stopped. Yamato drew in gasping gouts of air, trying to think and not succeeding very well at it. He was with Piemon. He didn’t want to be. Piemon had Takeru and Patamon. Patamon was an egg. Piemon _threatened_ Takeru with something Yamato didn’t want to consider even in the slightest. 

Piemon threw him around like a rag doll. All the power that he could just touch on the edges of now wasn’t enough to protect him. 

And then… all that pain. Piemon did something. 

Yamato breathed again. Someone was there. Someone other than him, someone other than Piemon. 

His first thought was that somehow Takeru was awake and free and he brought his head up sharply in the hopes of seeing his brother. 

What he saw wasn’t Takeru. Who it was dawned on him in a heartbeat but he couldn’t believe his own eyes. What he saw couldn’t have been, and yet there it was. 

Exactly his height. The hair was different – coal-black – the eyes were different – scarlet red like Piemon’s – but they stood exactly the same and every feature Yamato knew on his own face he saw on this one. 

Only there were differences there too. This person, this face, smirked as Piemon did, contemptuous and mocking, and he stood wrapped in armor as black as his hair, tinted scarlet and gold. 

“So we meet at last,” the other said, and even his voice sounded like Yamato’s. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” 

Yamato stared. He wasn’t sure of what else he could do. Words stumbled their way from his lips. “Who are you?” 

“I’m you. Or you’re me. Frankly, I don’t know how to describe it myself and I don’t think it matters. But if you want a name, then the one I prefer is _Anbumon_.” 

Yamato shook his head, trying to catch up and not doing a very good job of it. “I thought -” 

“That was your name? It is. I told you that I’m you and you’re me. The difference is that I’m the part of you that’s _completely_ Piemon’s son.” Anbumon smiled a dangerous smile and between his armored hands there suddenly played a long, slim knife. The embossing on the edge wasn’t the Crest of Friendship. Yamato didn’t know what it was. “The part of you that you don’t want to exist. I’ve been asleep all this time, but when _Father_ called to us, I started to wake up. And now...” He raised his head with that smile growing madder by the moment. “Now it’s my turn.” 

Yamato shook his head even harder. He didn’t understand this and he didn’t care to. He wasn’t sure if he needed to. “You’re not going to do anything.” 

“I’m going to do everything that I want to do. Quite a few things that _you’ve_ wanted to and never did.” Anbumon leaned over. “I’m going to _definitely_ enjoy meeting Yagami Taichi. How long _have_ you wanted him? Weeks? Months?” He chuckled, scarlet eyes mocking. “Years?” 

Yamato didn’t wait another moment. He charged forward, his own blades appearing in his hands, and drove them towards Anbumon. 

His doppelganger dodged out of the way, twice as graceful as he was, and brought one hand up to shove at Yamato, sending him stumbling. A quick blow to his stomach sent the wind flying out of Yamato and he stumbled, pulling himself away. 

_Can’t let him win. Can’t let him hurt anyone. Taichi..._

What would happen if this monster and Piemon joined forces? No. That couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let that happen. 

Another dragged in gulp of air and he pelted forward one more time. Anbumon didn’t move this time. This time, his armored fist landed right in Yamato’s solar plexus and Yamato forgot how to breathe for a crucial few seconds. 

When his vision cleared and he could see what was going on around him again, he saw bars. Everywhere he looked prison bars surrounded him. He grabbed them and yelped as pain shot through him at the touch, falling backwards. He had only a few paced that he could move in this prison, wherever he was. He reached for that power he’d only just begun to tap into and found it wasn’t there. All there was, was emptiness. 

“As long as you’re behind those bars, you can’t do anything,” Anbumon said, standing almost within arm’s reach, if there’d been room enough for him to put his arm between the bars. “And you’re going to stay behind those...” Anbumon tapped his fingers on the bars. They didn’t seem to harm him at all. “I think _forever_ will be a very good time-frame.” 

“You won’t get away with this,” Yamato hissed. “What, you think that you can … take my place? That people won’t know?” 

Anbumon threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing back and forth in a way that bid fair to drive Yamato mad from it alone. 

“Do you think I care if they know? I _want_ them to know who I am – what I am. Because _I am you_. I’m not a copy. I’m not something you can ever get rid of. I was born when you were born. I won’t die until you die.” He started to turn around. “If you don’t believe me, just watch. You’ll learn soon enough. I’m the part of you that you never wanted to acknowledge, and now I’m going to have all the fun you never did.” 

He took a few steps, then looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll see me again. But you’ll always see me from that side of the bars. I spent my entire existence there. Get used to it.” 

Yamato snarled, too furious to even articular, as the other laughed again, then turned and walked away. He vanished a heartbeat later, there one moment and gone the next. Yamato stared at the place where he’d been and growled, reaching again for the bars and again being repulsed by them. 

_Takeru. Taichi. Koushirou. Sora. Mimi. Jou. Hikari._ His friends. _Daisuke. Miyako. Iori._ The ones that trusted them, that looked up to them. Younger friends, but friends all the same. 

_Ken._ His brother? He still wasn’t sure. But to deal with what he’d done as the Kaiser and then this turned up? 

_I have to get out of here. Somehow._

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** All right. One more chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Words:** 12,691/12,691|| **Chapters:** 12/12

* * *

Piemon perched on air, a cup of his favorite wine held in one hand from which he took occasional sips as he waited for his son to wake up. The sphere he’d inserted would do its work well, if matters ran as he expected them to. Until now, his eldest had been what many would term a ‘benign’ virus type. 

But no longer. He’d crafted that sphere flawlessly, engineering it to remake his offspring into a very much _not_ benign virus. A proper child of his. 

He would do the same thing to the others when he had them. He quite looked forward to having his own court again, one made up of some of the most powerful Digimon around. He would even make certain to revive Vamdemon – vampires weren’t so easy to dispose of as the Chosen thought they were. 

His son stirred. A soft, confused groan echoed for a moment. Piemon sipped his wine and stared down to where the boy lay sprawled at his feet. 

There was a hint of movement, little more than his fingers flexing. Then another, stronger. A drawing in of air, and then slowly, his head raised up and he looked around. His eyes met with Piemon’s. 

His eyes weren’t blue anymore. Scarlet as his own, brilliant with power and glee. He sat up more fully, streaks of black appearing in his hair as he did. He raised his hands and stared at them, moving them carefully. 

“It happened,” he murmured. His voice seemed much the same, but touched now with two points it hadn’t been before: wonder and a kind of twisted glee. Piemon approved of both. 

His son’s head jerked back up to look at him. “Father.” 

Piemon quite liked how that sounded. He could get used to it. He nodded. “Anbumon.” He used the word on purpose. He wanted to see how this far better incarnation of his son would react to it. 

He smiled. A savage slash of an expression that spoke of delight and wildness. “Yes. That’s who I am.” 

“And who you will always be.” Piemon finished his wine and disposed of the glass before he looked back at the other. Now he could accomplish the tasks he’d been aiming for since the moment he’d spawned his offspring. “First we find out all that you’re capable of.” 

Anbumon nodded, looking back at his hands as he rose up, moving as if he weren’t entirely certain of how his body worked. He likely wasn’t; the sphere would have given him full dominance for the first time. He’d never moved under his own power before. 

“I want Yagami Taichi,” he said at last. “I’ll bring you the others when you want them, but I want _him_.” 

His eyes jerked up to meet Piemon’s. “He’s going to be _mine_.” 

“Of course. But first we develop your abilities. You’ll need them to fight their Digimon and them.” Piemon rose up. “Taking him out will make claiming the others that much easier as well.” 

Already the Chosen were reduced by two. His son stood by his hand where he properly belonged and once he finished with Takeru, he would have his delightful consort to amuse himself with. Taking Yagami would make it three and make it far less likely that the Chosen would even have the time to meddle in his affairs before he could crush them absolutely. 

They would only find their way in here after he left. Though his Digimon servants would certainly convince them that they had time to come to a rousing rescue. He almost wished that he could see their faces when they arrived to find the inner temple empty. 

Anbumon nodded, though he could see his son wasn’t thrilled about having to wait. He wanted what he wanted, here and now, and restraint wasn’t yet properly developed. But Piemon knew he could take care of that. There would be several lessons he could teach that would involve how to keep Yagami properly restrained once he was taken. 

And all truth to tell, Piemon also looked forward to the reaction of the Chosen to finding out that two of their number were _his_ sons and one of them the get of Vamdemon. He knew full well they considered the vampire their most nightmare-ish of enemies. He equally anticipated taking that position for his own. Before very long, the very mention of his name would cause nightmares in all of them. 

He moved over to where Takeru slept, each moment his spell working deeper and deeper into him. He’d crafted that as skillfully as he had the sphere that awakened Anbumon’s true viral nature. It wouldn’t have the same effect, but it would be _fascinating_ to deal with once he woke up. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be for days. Anbumon’s awakening came much quicker as his viral nature was a part of him. Takeru was being changed in other ways. 

Now he scooped Takeru up and draped him over one shoulder. Then he turned towards Anbumon. 

“Take the egg,” he ordered, indicating it with a jerk of his head. “Keep it safe; I’ll need it later.” It was too high up for it to have been noticed earlier, but black streaks swept around the egg as well. 

Takeru would need a bodyguard once he awoke, and Piemon saw no reason not to put someone to the task who already had experience protecting him. But this time, he intended to choose the path of evolution. Enough of angels. Enough of _Holy Angemon_. 

When the Chosen found this place, they would find little more than traces of blood, a few burned places, and nothing more. There would be no sign of where he’d taken his precious prizes. No trace of a scent to track or a trail to follow. 

They would not find Piemon or Takeru or Anbumon. Not until Piemon himself wanted them to. And even then, it would be more because Piemon found _them_. 

This time, there would be nothing at all that the Chosen could do to defeat him. They would try but that was it. 

This time, he would be the victor. 

* * *

**The End**

**Notes:** Well, that’s it. There will be a sequel (and more fics in general) but for now, this one is done. And many more WIPS to go… All of which I will finish before posting/resuming posting.


End file.
